Daughter of War
by Cameron Grant
Summary: We all know Clarisse La Rue as the jerk from the Ares cabin. But is she really the girl we think she is?
1. Undetermined

I knew Ares was my father months before he decided to announce it to the rest of the world.

I hadn't wanted him to claim me, and I had told him, too. I wanted to stay Undetermined in the Hermes cabin forever.

I guess that sounds pretty weird. Most demigods long to be claimed and live in a cabin with siblings who share their interests. They feel that once they have been assigned a cabin, they have a family; people they can trust. The one place that they could call home. But I never wanted any of that. The way I saw it and still see it today, once you've been claimed, your godly parent becomes your label. Your group. Your cabin _defines _you.

I mean, really. Everyone counts on Athena's children to be the problem solvers and expects them to pore over books all the time. Children of Aphrodite are always self-centered and generally not worth speaking to, unless, of course, you're one of them. Kids like me, children of Ares, are known for being prideful and tough. We're expected to start fist fights and pick on other kids.

It's not like that when you're Undetermined.

The campers don't categorize you when you're Undetermined. I don't think they realize it most of the time, but they automatically judge you by who your godly parent is. I'll admit, even _I _expect my fellow campers to act a certain way according to their godly parent. As I said, it's an automatic label demigods slap on each other without thinking. As an Undetermined camper, you don't have to deal with any of that. You can be friends with anyone and do anything without anyone raising an eyebrow at you.

I wanted it to stay that way forever.

Don't get me wrong, I love a good war movie. And sure, I've got a bit of an attitude. But there are other sides to me as well, and I don't want the Ares side to define who I am. I don't want to be looked at as a heartless punk who lives only to pulverize kids.

And I knew that I would be shoved into that stereotype immediately and would never be given another thought once Ares claimed me. I had seen it happen with other campers, and it was the last thing I wanted to have happen to me.

But I knew that he _had _to claim me. So much was riding on it.


	2. I Won't

"Clarisse, I know you can hear me. Answer me, why don't you?"

My father spoke to me in a dream as he sat on a stool, polishing one of his many beloved daggers with his meaty hands. He had been appearing to me each night for several months now. Most of our conversations had been casual; he asked me about camp. I asked him about Mount Olympus. We discussed war movies, we swapped jokes. We rarely discussed something _this _serious.

"Clarisse, talk to me."

That particular night, he wore a leather biker's jacket with the sleeves ripped off, exposing his large tattoo of a flaming boar on his left bicep. His expression was set in a scowl as usual, and he wore bad-boy sunglasses that were so tinted you couldn't see through them from the outside even if you squinted really, _really _hard. He wore the glasses to add to his "You mess with me, you die," appearance, but it wasn't the only reason he wore them.

Hidden behind those lenses were balls of flame which burned eternally in his eye sockets in the place of real eyes. That didn't make him blind, seeing that he's a powerful god, but if anyone could be so foolish as to gaze into those eyes, there was no doubt that _they _would go blind. But he only removed his shades in extreme cases, of course.

"_Clarisse."_

I didn't want to talk to my father. Our conversation needed to end. I needed to wake up. But for some reason, I found it impossible to wake myself. It was as if Ares were holding me to the dream; locking me in until he was finished with what he needed to say.

My father slammed his fist on the table he was seated next to.

"Clarisse! I've been patient for too long! Do you really want me to show you my bad side?"

That got me. Ares had never shown me his "bad side" yet, but I was sure that I didn't what to find out what it had in store.

"No Sir," I muttered.

He didn't smile; Ares never smiles; but judging by the fact that his face loosened up ever so slightly, I assumed he was pretty glad he'd gotten me talking.

"Tell me what you think," he said.

I shrugged. I knew exactly what I thought, I just didn't know quite how to word it without offending my father enough to get a good look at his bad side.

"I don't want to do it."

"Why?"

"It's not who I _am, _Father. It's not who I want to be."_  
><em>

He paused and studied me, contemplating what to say next.

"You do know why I want you to do this, right?"

I nodded reluctantly.

Ares threw his hands in the air in exasperation.

"Well then why won't you do it?" he was raising his voice. This wasn't going to end well.

"I don't want to live my life pretending I'm someone I'm not!" I was raising my voice now, too.

"Clarisse, my existence depends on this! It depends on _you_! Who are you to turn this down?"

I sighed. Part of me wanted to believe him. I was being selfish.

"You can't even be sure this will work, Father."

"Me? You can't be sure it won't! Clarisse, I need this. Believe me, I wouldn't stoop so low as to ask my kid for help with _anything _unless I needed it this badly."

I sensed that the flames behind those glasses were hotter than they had been in awhile. The tension between us was growing; I could feel it building up in my gut. Without hardly realizing it, I clenched my fists, and I'm sure I was scowling as well.

"It doesn't have to be me! Why not just use one of your kids who have already been claimed?"

Ares shot up from his stool and glared at me, or at least what I figured was glaring, as he doesn't have eyes.

"Because it'd be too obvious, you punk! Don't you see? You're the only person in the entire world who can do this. You're the only one who can save me. I don't care what you want, I'm claiming you tomorrow. Noon. On the hour. And you'd _better _do exactly as I say, you hear?"

I glowered at my father. There was no getting out of this now, but it wasn't like I was going to admit I was defeated.

"Fine, Father. Do what you want. I'm not going to try to stop you."


	3. I Hate It

I knew it was going to happen _sometime _that day, and as a result, I spent the entire day on guard for a spontaneous claiming ceremony. I was consistently checking above my head in case a glowing boar was flickering above it. I kept a low profile that day, and kept a constant prayer to my father in my heart: _Just get it over with. Just get it over with, I can't take this much longer._

But Ares decided to take his sweet time. It wasn't until I was settling into my sleeping bag in the Hermes cabin that night before anything happened.

"'Kay, guys, time for lights out," Luke Castellan, the Hermes counselor, announced and he flicked the light switch off. The only light in the room at that point was moonlight filtering through the windows. I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer to my father.

_Why didn't you do it? Am I off the hook? Are you holding out for something... something much worse than this?_

Suddenly, I heard a yelp echoing from a bunk across the cabin. I immediately brought my hands to the area above my head in fear that the flaming boar had appeared.

But it was only Travis Stoll. I heard the laughter erupting from Connor Stoll moments afterwards. They were just pulling pranks on each other, nothing out of the ordinary.

My hands trembled as I lowered myself into my sleeping bag once more and attempted to close my eyes, but it was no use. I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep that night, and there was no point in trying.

"Alright, guys, settle down," Luke said, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice as well. I didn't even bother to find out what they had done. I simply could not focus.

_Father, please, I must know what you're planning, _I prayed.

I sat up and stared across the dark cabin. The only noise I heard at this point was the rustling of blankets and people tossing and turning. And, of course, the occasional giggle spouting out from a Stoll boy's mouth. Other than that, I sat in silence. Eerie silence. Silence that was so loud it made me angry.

I wanted to punch something. I wanted to punch my father. That might have been my Ares-like tendencies speaking, but it was true. I was raging. I hated the fact that I wanted him to get it over with and claim me. I hated the fact that I wanted him to drag it out and wait a few more months, or even years, to claim me. I hated the fact that this was making me angry. I hated that I _wanted _punch something in the first place. I hated that-

There was a knock at the door.

The door that my sleeping bag was stationed right beside.

"Don't answer it!" I heard Luke call from across the cabin. "I got it!" I heard the squeaking of the springs on his bed as he rose and padded his way across the cold floor to the door. He stepped up to the door, prodding me and a few other kids on the crowded Hermes floor with his foot.

But before his hand could even touch the doorknob...

It slammed open.


	4. The Claiming

Luke jumped back, his hand on his side, where he always kept a dagger. And I do mean _always_... the fact that he was about to go to sleep with the dagger fastened around his waist proved it.

I saw a silhouette of a beefy male figure standing in the doorway, but that was all I could make out.

"Halt!" Luke shouted, unsheathing his dagger in a fraction of a second and pointing it at the figure. Though I could tell he was trying to sound confident for the sake of all of us in the cabin, his voice quivered just enough that it was clear he was panicking. The nervous tension in the room was so high that even the Stoll brothers wouldn't have dared crack a joke.

Then... I felt it.

It was as if a cloud were forming within my insides and rising into my chest. It was warm, but unsettling all the same. I felt dazed, all my attention focused on the cloud rising inside me. And then I knew: Ares was paying the Hermes cabin a visit.

I didn't want to look. I forced myself to stare at the floor and not sneak even a glance at my father. I had never met him in person before, and this wasn't the best time.

"Where's Clarisse?" There it was... his gruff voice firing away at Luke. I saw the fear in his eyes... but he only raised his dagger higher and stood up taller.

"You can't have her," he stated firmly. I doubt he even realized who he was up against.

Ares chuckled. But it wasn't just a _chuckle_, of course. There was intent to it. And not the pleasant kind. He did it so well, though. He casually leaned against the side of the doorway and folded his arms.

"Oh, really?" Although I couldn't make out his face, I could hear it by his tone that my father was grinning. "I thought all the punks at this camp were always complaining that their parents never _talked _to them. _Oh, Daddy, why don't you _love _me? _And all that crap. And so here I am, flesh and blood, in person, and I want to talk to my daughter, and you little _punk_," he prodded Luke in the chest at that last word, "Doesn't seem to want to let me in. Now, you tell me, does the _god of war _deserve this kind of respect? Are we not going to permit the _daughter of war _to speak to her own _Daddy?_"

Luke stared opened-mouthed at my father. He had lowered his dagger a long time ago. I could sense that all eyes in the cabin were rotating from Ares to me and back again. Quite honestly, I had never pictured my claiming to follow through like this.

The cabin sat in tense silence for what felt like hours. All I wanted to do was run away and hide. My life was over now... I was going to be forced to put on a "Child-of-Ares" act and never be myself _ever _again.

"Well, what are you punks waiting for? Everyone to the amphitheater!" Ares waved his hand in a "come on" gesture and, grabbing me by the wrist, stomped away from the cabin.


	5. They Know Me Now

Every last camper in the entirety of Camp-Half Blood was gathered in the amphitheater. They had all grudgingly risen from their beds, and it showed. Laid out before me was a throng of pajamas, disheveled hair, weary eyes, and even a few weapons. None of the campers seemed happy to be attending an assembly this late at night.

Chiron came galloping into the center of the amphitheater, where I stood with my father, who had taken it upon himself to casually wrap his arm around my shoulder.

"_What _is going on here?" he demanded angrily, which sounded pretty pathetic considering his horse tail was in hair curlers, but I tried to overlook that in light of the circumstances.

"Ah, Chiron. I-" My father began, but the centaur interrupted him.

"Oh, my Lord Ares. I am afraid I failed to acknowledge your presence at first glance. My apologies, but I must ask, what brings you here at this hour?"

Ares nudged me.

"Just making sure my daughter feels welcome in her new cabin," he announced. Chiron raised his eyebrows and paused a moment before the words formed in his mouth. He regarded me with a look I had never seen him make before... a mixture of surprise, confusion, fear... maybe even disappointment?

"Ah. I see, Lord Ares. You may... continue with whatever it was you wished to say to the campers," Chiron said before trotting over to the sidelines and folding his arms.

Ares cleared his throat and spread his arms, pointing at me.

"This is my kid!" he announced, loud and clear. I felt my cheeks warming up. I clenched my fists. "Clarisse La Rue, Daughter of War!" he clasped his meaty hands around my wrist and raised my hand in the air triumphantly. I'm not sure what my face resembled, by apparently it wasn't good enough, because Ares nudged me and grumbled under his breath, "Come on, punk. Your act starts now."

I detested what I did next with a white hot flaming passion, but I forced myself to do it, knowing that Ares was going to punish me if I didn't.

"Yeah!" I screamed obnoxiously with my best "don't mess with me" voice. "Daughter of _War!_" I hooted and shouted and, well, _acted like an Ares kid_ for a good fifteen seconds before Chiron intervened.

"All hail Clarisse La Rue, Child of Ares, God of War!"

The demigods in the amphitheater simultaneously fell to their knees and muttered, "All hail Clarisse!" It was ceremonial- they always did this when anyone was claimed, but this time I could tell that they all wanted to go back to sleep. Not many of them really knew who I was anyway.

They all knew me now.

I turned to my side to look at my father, but he had vanished.

"Campers dismissed!" Chiron yelled, and the demigods groggily rose and trudged off to their cabins. A few of the Ares campers made their way toward me, including the head counselor, Mark, who patted me on the back.

"Welcome to the clan," he said.

I had never gotten to know any of the Ares campers, but they were just as my father had described them; not fully living up to the stereotypical expectations of an Ares kid. Mark had a couple of ear piercings, and so did Sherman. Eva had dyed her hair black with blood red streaks. She wore combat boots, and Mark wore a black tank top. They looked like bad kids, just not the _very _bad kids that children of war were expected to be. Those were Ares's words, anyway.

"We haven't had a new camper in awhile," Mark said as he, Eva, and Sherman walked me to the Ares cabin, which was wrapped in barbed wire and a coat of sloppy red paint. It wasn't exactly welcoming. "Heck, Ares hasn't spoken to any of us in awhile." Mark shook his head.

"Oh, that's too-" I began, but stopped myself. I needed to go into serious war mode. "What a jerk," I sneered. "And he calls himself our father."

Eva raised an eyebrow at me. "I wouldn't go around dissing Dad like that, Clarisse. If one of Mr. D's kids said something like that about _him_, he would turn them into a grape or something. Our dad is Ares, the god of flipping war. Just think about what he could do to you for talking like that," she chastised.

_Okay, _I thought. _So I need to be mean, but not dissing-your-father mean. _

Sherman shrugged as he turned the knob to the cabin door, revealing a mess of about ten bunks with kids crawling into them. Dirty clothes, armor, and weapons were scattered across the floor. It didn't look like a warzone; just a typical room of a moderately responsible teenager. Minus the weapons and armor of course, but you get what I mean.

Mark motioned toward a bunk near the back of the cabin. "You can sleep there," he said. "And... I guess that's it. I'll fill you in on everyone's name and the schedule in the morning."

Mark stalked off through the cabin, telling everyone to "Shut up and get in bed."

I climbed the wooden ladder to the top bunk of the bed Mark had pointed me to. The mattress was hard and sloppily made in a black bedspread with a single black pillow, which didn't provide much support. Nonetheless, it was better than sleeping on the floor of the Hermes cabin.

"Okay, guys, I'm turning the lights off, everybody shut up," Mark announced. I heard a brief _flick! _and the lights shut off, thus beginning my first night as a true Ares camper.


	6. Olympian Council

It was that time of year again: the summer solstice, council of the gods. All twelve of the Olympians were seated in a half-circle in the Throne Room, silently awaiting Lord Zeus's instruction.

The King of Olympus himself sat cross-legged in his chair, his chin in his fist. He wasn't fond of these semi-yearly meetings, but he dealt with them.

"The Council of the Olympian Gods will now come to order!" Zeus adjusted himself in his seat, and the meeting began. He read through the yearly report-the most boring part of his job on Olympus- and continued with more... _important _business.

"I believe it has come to all of our attention," the lord of the sky cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact with any of his fellow Olympians. "That there is a certain god among us who is... not meeting up with standards."

There was a tense silence, as all of the gods seated in the room knew who their king was referring to. The god of War himself turned a shade of red and placed his chin in his meaty hands. Zeus knew that Ares wasn't going to take this well; although he was sure Ares had foreseen this happening _eventually. _

"Lord Ares," Zeus fidgeted in his seat and worked up the nerve to give Ares a nervous glance. "Not only have you been slacking in your duties as the God of War, but it is rubbing off on your children as well. Chiron tells me that they aren't... _contributing _to the Ares image. They don't show warlike capabilities."

Zeus looked around the throne room cautiously at Athena. Being a goddess of war herself, there was a smug twinkle in her eyes that bursted with pride. Her divine image was in no danger.

The king of Olympus cleared his throat.

"As I am sure you are aware, Lord Ares, once a deity's image has dwindled to extinction, the god himself will cease to exist. Not that you are in immediate danger, but it is advisable to take precautions before we allow this to get any worse."

Ares stared at the floor; or at least it _looked _like he was staring at the floor. It was difficult to tell when he wore sunglasses to hide his fiery gaze.

The twelve Olympians sat in eerie silence. The gods had reigned for thousands of years, and the thought of an _Olympian _fading from existence was unfathomable.

So, naturally, Ares was going to do everything within his power to regain his glory, to erase any embarrassment he might have ever felt. And he was going to start at Camp Half-Blood.


	7. Disappointment

"Hey," Mark's raspy voice whispered in my ear as he gently nudged my shoulder. "Wake up, newbie."

My eyes flew open and I sat up with a jolt, causing Mark to jump back in surprise.

"Hey," I grinned, embarrassed. I scraped by hair back behind my head with my hands as I stifled a yawn.

Mark smiled and patted me on the back. "Come on, get out of bed. We've gotta be at breakfast in fifteen minutes."

* * *

><p>Luke had brought me all of my clothes and toiletry items that morning, and I tried my best to fashion them into a "rebel" outfit, or at least as close to a rebel as you could get with <em>my <em>wardrobe. I tied a red bandanna around by forehead and rolled the sleeves on my Camp Half-Blood t-shirt into a tank top. There wasn't much I could do about my jeans besides ripping holes in them, which I wasn't willing to do just yet.

The most difficult aspect of that morning wasn't the clothing, however, but rather, my speech. I knew that the way I talked to other people wasn't going to make Ares proud, but it's hard to just _change_. I tried my best to mix in some sarcastic comments and attempted speaking in a clearer, rougher tone. But I only felt like I was being a jerk. I mean, all I had to do was be _tough_. Warlike. Nothing in my job description said that I had to be a bitch about everything, like my father so loved to do.

There were nine kids total at the Ares table during breakfast, including myself. Mark, Sherman, Eva, Carl, Alex, Emma, Ian, and Macy. And they were _all _just like Ares had told me they were: disappointments, just like me.

I shook my head. I couldn't afford to be thinking like that at the moment. I couldn't afford to be thinking like that _ever. _I needed to focus on getting through breakfast.

I stared at my bacon, toast, and scoop of assorted sliced fruit waiting to be eaten and contemplated how I was to go about doing so. Of course, the civilized individual would use a fork to eat the fruit. Everyone else at my table was. But that was just it- it looked _right. _I fingered a slice of strawberry, and after a moment's hesitation, popped it into my mouth. I tried to look as natural as possible; not barbaric, just like a tough kid who was too good for silverware.

The toast and bacon was easy to get through, and I drank through my goblet of orange juice with as little daintiness as possible. I felt stupid, and I figured I probably looked pretty unintelligent as well, but sometimes you have to do what you have to do.

I glanced across the mess hall at the overcrowded Hermes table. Luke sat at the head of the table, munching on a granola bar while laughing and talking with the Stoll brothers about who-knows-what. Some of the campers at the table were forced to sit on the floor because they simply had too many members. I remembered being one of those floor-sitting kids.

I missed it.

I mean, I know I had only been in the Ares cabin for a few hours, but I guess that just goes to prove how much I relished in remaining Undetermined. All those other kids took it for granted...

"Ahem!" My head whipped up at the sound of Mr. D's annoyed drone as he stood at the administration table. "_Hello_, kids, your attention please." He waved his hand in front of his face irritably and rolled his eyes when all the attention in the room was given to him. "Okay, brats, listen up. For those of you dimwits who haven't heard the news, we have a new Ares camper, Claire LaPoo, so make her feel welcome and all that." Mr. D took a swig of Diet Coke and plopped himself back down in his seat.

The heat in my cheeks rose as the mess hall filled with respectful applause, and I felt the eyes of all my fellow campers turn to me. This was a big moment; my first introduction as a child of Ares. I couldn't just let this slide. But I wasn't sure what I should do; smile and wave? Sit there awkwardly and do nothing? Stand and cheer like a true Ares kid?

_Yeah, _I thought. _Unfortunately, that's what I gotta do._

So, gathering all of the hidden insanity I inherited from my father, I stood and waved my fist in the air in a sort of "hurrah!" gesture. I hooted and howled and really put myself out there, much to my dismay. The rest of the campers only continued their applause politely, so none of them felt the desire to howl and hoot along with me. Oh, well, Ares is independent.

I couldn't help but glace at the Hermes table. Of course, I wasn't ever particularly close with any of them, but most of them at least knew who I was. Most of them knew that I wasn't... whatever fool of myself I was making at the moment. The applause at the Hermes table was more... uncertain. Hesitant. I saw Luke exchange questioning glances with Connor Stoll. No, not questioning. It was almost... disappointing.

But I couldn't blame them. I wasn't all that impressed with myself either.


End file.
